Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
My desire to care for North while he’s sick is putting me at risk and I don’t like it.
And yet, I cannot deny that no matter how tired I am right now because it’s been a long, exhausting night, it feels so damn satisfying to be needed.
Ugh. So fucking confusing, and it disorients me to the point I don’t know who I am anymore.
Finally, I grab his keys and head out the door, forcing all those deep and conflicting thoughts aside.
CHAPTER 18
North
I fucking hate sitting here on my couch, in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, watching my team take on the San Diego Renegades. I should be there with them, doing my part on the second line with Foster, Atlas, Camden and Hendrix.
But I am cuddled up with a beautiful woman curled into my side. Farren smells amazing, having just gotten out of the shower. And Christ… her skin is so soft that I don’t think I’ll ever stop grazing my thumb over her shoulder.
Okay, maybe it doesn’t suck that bad not being with my team, but I am undoubtedly feeling useless.
I officially got a clean bill of health today from our team’s doctor. I even felt good enough to drive myself to his office for the checkup after a solid two days in bed where Farren catered to my every need.
The past few days have been unexpected. Farren didn’t just tend to me; she really took care of me. From the moment she forced me to the ER to now, she’s barely left my side. She made sure I ate, stayed hydrated, took my meds on time, and didn’t do anything stupid—which, I’ll admit, was harder for her than it should’ve been.
None of that is solace that I’ve missed two games with my team and I’m itching to get back. In fact, I intend to hit the gym first thing tomorrow to show Coach that I’ll be ready for Wednesday’s game against the LA Demons.
Farren and I watch the game, me giving unsolicited commentary here and there.
I glance at Farren beside me, her legs tucked under her, one of my T-shirts swallowing her whole and hanging off her shoulder, which gives me access to that silky skin. She’s watching the game intently, a hand clutching a mug of tea she made for herself. An identical one she made for me sits untouched on the table, but I’m sick of drinking that crap. I really want a beer but I’m thinking she won’t go for that.
Besides, I’m being a good boy tonight because I do intend to fuck her when we go to bed so she can see how much better I’m feeling.
“Hey,” I murmur, nudging her with my shoulder. “Thanks again for everything.”
She looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “For making sure you didn’t keel over? I think the bar for gratitude is pretty low.”
“I mean it,” I say seriously, my voice still a little raspy. “I’ve been in the league eight years, and any time I’ve been sick or hurt, I’ve just dealt with it. No one’s ever looked after me the way you have these past few days. It means a lot.”
Her cheeks flush, and she turns her eyes back to the TV. “Don’t make it weird, North. It wasn’t a hardship.”
“It wasn’t exactly glamorous either,” I point out, taking her hand in mine. She tries to pull it back but I hold tight. “You’ve been here three days. Cooking, cleaning, keeping me fed and medicated.” I pause, a teasing grin tugging at my lips. “You did it all while I was sometimes being a grumpy ass. I really appreciate it.”
“I know,” she says quietly, her fingers brushing over my thumb. “But I wanted to.”
Those words sit between us for a beat, and I feel something inside me twist. Farren’s not the type to admit she cares, but actions speak louder than words. She didn’t just stick around—she showed up in every way that mattered.
“So…,” she says, cutting through the moment, “you’re basically back to human now.”
I snag on the opportunity. “Which means we’re having sex tonight.”
I expect her to scoff but instead, her lips curve in a sexy smile. “Of course we’re having sex tonight. But I’ve got a job interview tomorrow, so you’ll have to survive without me. I’ve got to get some laundry done and stuff.”
I try not to let the disappointment show on my face. “You’re leaving?”
“I have things to do,” she says, her response light but guarded. “I’ve got to get a job before Rafferty kicks me out.”
The mention of Rafferty gives me an idea—an idea I know might send her running if I’m not careful.
“What if he did?” I ask.
She blinks at me. “What if he did what?”
“Kick you out,” I say, sinking back into the couch like it’s no big deal. “Or another way to say it… what if you moved in with me?”